


Don't Die!

by Rasborealis



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canonical Character Death, Drama & Romance, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Hogwarts Sixth Year, M/M, POV Multiple, Romance, Translation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-10
Updated: 2019-11-13
Packaged: 2021-01-26 12:20:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21374053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rasborealis/pseuds/Rasborealis
Summary: 6th year sees Harry and Draco flinging curses at each other in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, and soon one of them lies severely injured on the floor as the other looks on in utter shock. But what if Professor Snape isn't there to step in and help?
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 9
Kudos: 69





	1. Red Water

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Stirb nicht!](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3895627) by [SiamKitty](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SiamKitty/pseuds/SiamKitty). 

> Many thanks to SiamKitty for allowing me to translate this lovely work.

They’d been flinging curses at each other for several minutes now. Two sinks had been utterly destroyed and water sprayed wildly from one of the faucets, soaking the entire floor. Deep gouges were littered all over the walls; in a few spots, huge chunks were missing. It was a miracle that no one had yet heard the commotion.

Harry was concealing himself behind a stone pillar and tried to control his breathing. His entire body was taut. _Where is the bastard?_ he asked himself, trying to hear something, anything except silence. There was only the sound of water spraying from the walls. But Malfoy was still here, somewhere.

He had cursed Katie, had joined the Death Eaters, and now he was hatching yet another perfidious plan. Harry knew all that with certainty, even if he couldn’t prove it. He was planning to stop him before he managed to hurt – or even kill – anyone else. His heart was beating wildly. He _had_ to defeat Malfoy before he could strike Harry down. The scumbag had to pay for what he’d done. Unbidden, the spell from the Half Blood Prince’s potions book came to his mind. _For enemies_, Harry remembered the scrawled note in the margin. If there was any situation appropriate for it, then this one was it.

He listened attentively, every muscle in his body tense, ready to strike. And there it was! He registered the unmistakable sound of a foot splashing water as it was set on the wet floor. Lightning fast, Harry emerged from his cover and stood face to face with his arch enemy Draco Malfoy…

…who took aim with his wand and started on a furious “CRUC-”

But Harry was prepared and had faster reflexes. Without hesitation, he hurled “SECTUMSEMPRA” at Draco.

Malfoy was flung backwards in a high arc and hit the wet floor. His wand landed somewhere in a corner, behind a loo. A surprised “Wow” escaped Harry as he quickly returned to his cover. Until now, the spells from the book had been mostly harmless; this one was far more powerful. Still, he kept his wand at the ready. You never knew.

And then Harry frowned. Even after a good thirty seconds, there was no sign of Malfoy. Only his moans and pained gasps echoed from the walls of the bathroom.

The water on the floor turned red.

As though in slow motion, Harry’s wand fell from his hand as he stepped out from behind the pillar.

The sight that awaited him shook him to the core. Malfoy lay on the floor, his skin deathly pale, and his white shirt soaked by a mix of water and blood. Harry was so shocked he could barely move. His limbs began to shake, his heart raced so fast he was worried he might faint. He hadn’t intended for this to happen! He’d just wanted to teach Malfoy a lesson, and now Malfoy was lying here, covered in blood. It had to be a dream, it couldn’t possibly be true. Harry started to hyperventilate.

Malfoy looked up at him, his light gray eyes pleading, wide with pain and fear. He managed to raise one hand, but Harry didn’t react, just stood there, frozen.

“Potter, help me,” he eventually managed to gasp, and then lost consciousness.

Harry’s eyes widened when he heard Draco beg. Without another thought, he fell to his knees at Malfoy’s side and seized his limp hand. It was only now dawning on him that this was not some sort of minor injury. Draco was in danger of bleeding out, and if that happened, it would be Harry’s fault. Suddenly terrified, he shook the limp body, screaming, “Malfoy! Come on, wake up! WAKE UP!”

He was despairing. What should he do? He didn’t know any healing spells; he couldn’t even _think_. He screamed for help, but nobody seemed to hear him. It was hopeless, nobody wandered near Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom, so what should he do? His thoughts raced wildly. Leave Malfoy here and fetch someone? No, he was far too afraid of returning only to find him dead.

He had to get him to the hospital wing, everything else could wait. Harry quickly wrapped his cloak around Malfoy and lifted him from the floor. With numb shock, he realized that Malfoy was far too cold and only taking shallow breaths. He had to hurry; time was slipping away

Pressing Malfoy to his chest, he ran, faster than he had ever run in his life, from the sixth floor to the first, ignoring the other students’ exclamations as he passed. No teachers came his way.

_Where the hell are they when you need them?_ Harry cursed silently.

He didn’t feel the exertion from the run, or from carrying his archenemy. His only focus was getting to the hospital wing.

After several minutes that felt like ages to Harry, he reached his destination. Twisting, he rammed his shoulder into the door to open it, resting Malfoy’s head in the crook of his neck to prevent it from bumping into something. Madam Pomfrey, having heard the door, was already hurrying toward them, horror on her face as she recognized the students - one, unconscious, pale, and covered in blood, being carried by the other.

“Put him on this first bed here, Mr. Potter,” she said, so fast that it took a few moments for the words to penetrate Harry’s brain.

Madam Pomfrey started working immediately. She called through the room to her assistant, “Holly, quickly! I need Essence of Dittany, healing cloths, and blood replenishing potions, now!”

Harry stood near her, helplessly. The last thing he saw before the curtains around the bed were closed was Madam Pomfrey’s agitated face and Malfoy’s seemingly lifeless body as they extracted him from Harry’s cloak.

Panic finally overwhelmed him. Shaking and shedding unbridled tears, he dropped against the wall. He had his arms wrapped around his knees, which he’d drawn close, and was hiding his face in them as he started to rock back and forth in a slow, steady rhythm.

One thought captured him, and like a mantra, he kept repeating the words again and again: “I’m sorry, Draco! Please don’t die! Don’t die!”


	2. By A Thread

With a wordless spell, Madam Pomfrey closed the curtains around her patient’s bed while also still peeling the cloak from his lifeless body, then carefully opened the buttons of his shirt and pulled that off as well, mentally thanking Merlin that extensive training and years of experience had taught her to work quickly and efficiently. Feeling more and more alarmed, she looked at the boy. Across his chest, from the left shoulder to the lowest rib on the right, was a cut that was copiously oozing blood.

She had seen a lot during her years at the school. Students who quarreled and cursed each other were common occurrences, but this year, it had been worse than she’d ever seen before. First it had been Katie Bell, who hadn’t died thanks to Severus, but had to endure a lengthy stay in St. Mungo’s, and now there was suddenly a severely injured Draco Malfoy to save.

Holly soon brought her the essence of dittany and several healing cloths. The young assistant had only been with her for four months. She’d been at the top of her class of trainee healers and had been insistent on doing her apprenticeship at Hogwarts – a thing which Madam Pomfrey was incredibly thankful for at this very moment.

“The student’s name is Draco Malfoy, Slytherin house. Check his file for his blood type and bring me the proper blood replenishing potion,” she demanded of the young woman, meanwhile soaking the cloths in essence of dittany and trying to wipe away the blood with her left hand while her right cast a diagnostic charm

The cut wasn’t terribly deep, thank Merlin. But it wouldn’t stop bleeding, which worried the school nurse a lot. She tried several different charms to close the wound, without success, which told her that the curse that had hit the student had been dark. When Holly came rushing back with the proper potion – Draco had blood type 1 4 like most purebloods – the matron took it from her and sent her to fetch Severus.

The assistant didn’t waste any time and was out the door in the next second. Madam Pomfrey reached for the phial of blood replenisher and poured it down the throat of the still unconscious Draco. With a special massage technique, she coaxed his esophagus into swallowing – a trick she had, thankfully, learned many years ago from her mentor. Once that was done, she pressed the cloth to the wound to try and prevent Draco losing too much blood. She had given up on trying to heal the cut with magic – there was no way she would be able to do it without knowing the proper incantation. She hoped fervently that Severus, who had much more experience with dark curses, would be able to help.

As soon as she had finished the thought, Holly returned to the hospital wing with a tense-looking Severus.

“He’s there, Professor,” said the young apprentice, pointing at the bed half-hidden by the curtain.

Severus nodded grimly and, after sparing a single glance for Harry, who was still huddled on the floor, stepped up to the patient. Wordlessly, he pushed Madam Pomfrey’s hands aside and removed the cloths, drew his wand in one fluid movement and traced the cut across Draco’s torso. His murmuring, which sounded much like a chant, was echoed by the walls of the hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey watched anxiously and sighed with profound relief when the wound actually began to close.

When there was finally no more blood trickling out, she took a fresh cloth and soaked it in dittany, draping it across the entire area around the wound before starting on bandaging Draco’s torso.

“It won’t do much, Poppy. He’s going to keep a scar,” Severus said.

With a wave of her wand, the matron cleaned the blood off the sheets and replied, “I’ll be glad if he wakes up at all, Severus. I’m not terribly worried about the scar.”

“Have you given him a blood replenisher?”

“Of course.”

“Give him another one.”

The healer collected the used cloths, Draco’s shirt, and the cloak, and ducked into an adjacent room, returning with another phial of blood type 1 4 blood replenisher. Severus had covered the patient up in the meantime. After Madam Pomfrey had given him the potion, the color slowly started to return to Draco’s skin – of course he was quite pale by nature, but she had never seen him anywhere near as white as he’d been when Harry had brought him in.

“He certainly won’t wake before the morning,” sighed the matron. “In the meantime, we can do nothing but hope he will make a full recovery.” She turned to the professor. “Thank you for coming so quickly. I really don’t know how I would have stopped the bleeding.”

“Circumstances worked in my favor. I heard from more than one student who saw Potter racing past with Malfoy, I only had to follow the track of blood. And then your apprentice came running up to me in the corridor.”

For a few silent seconds, both of them looked at the unconscious Draco. Suddenly, Severus’ head shot up and his eyes flashed dangerously as he called out, “Speaking of Potter!” He spun around and approached Harry, who was still distraught and sobbing occasionally. Holly seemed to be trying to calm him, but she couldn’t quite get through to him. He was clearly under shock. Severus didn’t seem to care, however. He decisively pushed aside the assistant, crouched in front of the Gryffindor, took him by the shoulders, and shook him hard.

He snarled viciously at the frightened-looking Harry. “By Merlin’s balls, what were you thinking, you foolish, insufferable brat! Did you lose your-”

“SEVERUS!” Madam Pomfrey interceded. “Leave the boy! Can’t you see he’s utterly shaken?”

“I…I…I d-didn’t…didn’t mean…Draco!” Harry stammered.

Holly stroked a calming hand down his back. “Let’s get you up, Harry. Draco will be alright. Would you like to sit with him?”

The young wizard nodded absently and let the apprentice healer maneuver him into the chair she had conjured next to Draco’s bed. Meanwhile, Madam Pomfrey lectured Severus.

“Severus, if you shout at the boy like that again, I will throw you out of the hospital wing. Are we clear?”

“Poppy, you don’t understand! You don’t understand the magnitude of what Potter did.”

“I only know that he brought a critically injured student to me, and he’s completely overwhelmed. You will let him calm down before you talk to him, understood?” The matron was deadly serious.

“Fine,” Severus hissed. He still looked furious but was obviously trying to control himself. Conjuring himself another chair, he sat opposite Harry, who was staring at Draco with empty eyes.

Severus crossed his arms and looked at him, silent and clearly angry. He seemed to be thinking hard.


	3. At My Enemy's Bedside

The two of them sat there for quite a while, silent and unmoving. While Snape attempted to stare holes into him, Harry kept his gaze lowered and took in Malfoy’s still form as he tried to reassure himself. Malfoy looked better than he had only a short while ago, and hadn’t the nice apprentice healer said that he would be alright?

Harry felt numb and exhausted. A paradoxical mess of chaotic thoughts and complete emptiness filled him, and it didn’t help that he could feel how angry Snape still was. The dark gaze on him felt like it might stab him to death any moment.

\---

Severus, who looked outwardly angry, actually felt disturbed more than anything. That didn’t mean he wasn’t still fuming, and he would have loved to interrogate the brat here and now, but he had to be smart about it. If he lost his temper, Poppy would throw him out, so he waited until Potter had calmed a little and let the boy start the conversation.

It only took a short while.

“I didn’t mean to,” Potter said quietly, eyes still fixed on Draco.

Severus breathed deeply, trying to keep it together. “What _did_ you mean to do?” he asked with a seething undertone.

Potter shrugged. “Just to teach him a lesson, really. Disarm him, shock him, beat him up…something like that.”

Severus snorted in disbelief. “There are plenty of other spells which will accomplish that – or even your fists.”

“I didn’t know what the spell would do,” Potter said quickly. He looked Severus directly in the eyes, as though trying to underline the truth of his words.

“Of course not,” Severus said, biting and cynical.

Potter’s eyes widened. “I’m telling the truth! I found it in a book along with the words ‘for enemies’, nothing more, and I thought…”

“You thought ‘Oh, I should try this one out, what could possibly go wrong?’” Severus interrupted him. “Honestly, Potter, using a spell if you don’t know what it does is beyond idiotic, even for you. I wouldn’t have thought you were quite this ignorant.”

At those words, Potter’s head dropped in shame.

Severus thought about what he had just heard. He hadn’t truly thought that James Potter’s son was cold enough to knowingly use a curse as dark as this one on another person, and he could confirm it by simply thinking back to the utterly distraught boy rocking on the floor earlier. But, more importantly, the boy had actually managed to somehow get his hands on Severus’ old potions book. It had been in a cupboard in the potions classroom, although Severus had forgotten all about it until just now. Under these circumstances it would certainly be best to take possession of it again.

“Potter, bring the book here!” he growled into the silence,

The boy looked up, startled. “W-w-what?” was all he could stutter.

“The book from which you got the spell! Bring it here,” Severus said sternly.

\---

Harry was suddenly worried. There was no way he wanted to lose the Half Blood Prince’s advice. This year had been the best he’d ever done in potions, and now he was supposed to give the book to his most hated teacher? He was reluctant, although a little voice in his mind pointed out that it was unfair to everyone else if his success had been brought forth from someone else’s knowledge.

Snape seemed to be able to read his thoughts. In a threatening tone, he said, “No arguments, Potter! You will bring it here within the next five minutes, otherwise you will not enjoy the consequences.”

Harry swallowed hard. He knew that the head of Slytherin house was not to be taken lightly. When he heard a sharp “Get going!”, he jumped up and went.

\---

Severus sighed when the boy was finally out of the doors, and rubbed the ridge of his nose. Then he glanced at Draco, who was looking better by the minute. Some color had returned to his skin, and his breath was even and steady, a sure sign that his body was healing and the potions were doing their work. If Potter had actually managed the unthinkable, to kill Draco, it would have meant Severus’ own death as well. Once again, he asked himself just when the stakes had been raised so high.

For a long while, he simply sat there, looking on as his student kept recovering, and thinking. Then, suddenly, he straightened. Where was Potter? Hadn’t he said something about five minutes? How long had the impertinent brat been gone, twenty-five? Just as Severus was about to leave his chair and fetch the smug, arrogant wretch who was more than likely dawdling on purpose, a disheveled-looking Potter stepped through the door.

His hair was even messier than usual, the top buttons of his shirt had been ripped open, his cloak hung, askew, over one shoulder. His glasses had also seen better times. On top of that, he had a black eye, his cheek was red and swollen, and his upper lip had been split. He handed over the shabby potions book with the frayed cover with hands that were reddened at the knuckles. 

Severus’ eyebrows went up. “Who did that?” he asked as he took the book. He risked a short glance at the first page and recognized the proclamation that he himself had written into the book twenty years ago: _This book is property of the Half-Blood Prince._

“Malfoy’s gorilla bodyguards ambushed me on my way back,” Harry replied. His voice sounded more composed than he had to feel.

“Well, Mr. Crabbe and Mr. Goyle have always been a bit…over-eager,” Severus responded sardonically. “Still, don’t think for one moment that you can wriggle your way out of punishment. Your reckless behavior almost killed a student today.”

The boy cringed at the last few words.

“I will await you tomorrow evening in my office, at eight o’clock sharp, Potter. I will not tolerate tardiness then, whatever the reason.”

With those words, Severus Snape left. On his way back to the dungeons he came across the caretaker, Filch, wiping away the blood in the corridor while muttering angrily. He ignored his students’ questioning gazes – the faster these gossiping brats forgot the incident, the better. It would be bad enough having to tell Albus about the matter once he had finally returned – whenever that might be. 

\---

Even after Snape had left, Harry continued to stand by the doors of the hospital wing. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply in and out. He felt tired, thoroughly exhausted. _What an utterly shit day_, he thought, wanting nothing more than to drop onto the nearest bed.

He felt a soft touch at his chin, and when he opened his eyes, he saw the apprentice healer, Holly, who looked him over.

“Oh dear,” she sighed. “Here’s a plan. We hurry up and get you healed, and then you can rest for a bit. Stay the night, if you like. Is that acceptable?”

Harry gave a resigned nod. It was all the direct communication he felt capable of at the moment. All he wanted right now was some peace.


End file.
